Law makes long spokes of the short stakes of men.
Category Archive: William Empson
Waiting for the end, boys, waiting for the end.
You don’t want madhouse and the whole thing there.
My heart pumps yet the poison draught of you.
It seems unpleasantly refined to put things off till someone knows.
Slowly the poison the whole blood stream fills. It is not the effort nor the failure tires. The waste remains, the waste remains and kills.
The heart of standing is you cannot fly.